


there is no love here

by yumeniai



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Dean will always be a self-sacrificing asshole even when he's a she, F/F, F/M, Michael really is very nice, Not actually crack, Sam is definitely a boy king but not the boy king of hell, always-a-girl!Dean, and he'll never be the actual boy king if Deanna can help it, just also terrifyingly ruthless, lucifer has depths, manners? what are manners?, they're all rude little shits, where everyone has verbal diarrhoea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 23:51:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yumeniai/pseuds/yumeniai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Michael is aiming for world domination, Lilith and her Daemons won't stop nibbling at the borders, Eve is dead, and Deanna is thoroughly fed up.<br/>Or: the engagement that never happens<br/>Or: Deanna makes a marriage deal with the neighboring kingdom of Engel, but they won't stop sending her assholes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there is no love here

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: off screen past underage rape, no flashbacks but plenty of discussion about it. Off screen torture, also in the past. Discussions of underage sex (Deanna is 16 at the beginning) but nothing ever happens. Lots of past trauma.

“So Walker said no, again.”

Deanna thumped her head against her desk. “What’s crawled up his ass and died this time?” she groaned out almost incoherently.

“Humph. Nothing more than the usual,” Bobby replied, dropping the letter containing Lord Gordon Walker’s ‘cordial’ dismissal of their latest attempt at unification. It floated down to rest on top of Deanna’s short-cropped hair for a second before sliding off again. She raised her head by increments; just enough to read Walker’s politely scathing words.

She snorted. “He could’ve just said that he didn’t trust us ‘cause our lands are ruled by a scheming bitch whose whored herself out to all the Daemon lords and their soldiers. Would’ve probably been easier to read than this crap.”

“And give us the excuse to go postal on his ass?” Bobby rolled his eyes. “He’s not that dumb.”

Deanna levered herself up off her chair, to take up pacing furiously instead. “Yeah, but he’s just dumb enough to not care while those Daemon bastards are nipping away at our borders.” She slammed her fists on the table. “Dammit, but we need that bastard, or there’s no chance that we’ll win. Even Dad’s campaign didn’t get very far, and that was with all of us united. Without the Walkers …”

Bobby sighed, eyes following her as she started up again. “His grounds for saying no only have land to stand on because you’re, well …”

“Unmarried? De-hymenated? Sullied? Take your pick, Bobby; I’ve heard worse in the barracks.”

He shot her a glare. “You better not have. Which bastard-“

Deanna grinned tired at him. “You know me, Bobby. Put him in his place and beat his ass while I was at it. As meek as a kitten now, apparently one of my greatest defenders among the nonbelievers.”

Bobby grimaced back. “They shouldn’t be saying things like that about their liege in the first place,” he grumbled. “If your daddy was still here that idjit wouldn’t even have his head anymore.”

“Yeah, well,” Deanna sighed, “If Dad was still here we wouldn’t be having these problems with Walker, either.”

Bobby shrugged, but kept quiet. While it was true that the Walkers had joined them in the last Mann-Daemon war, they had pulled out almost as soon as Deanna had been captured, with some nonsense excuse about John being compromised. Bobby had always thought that it was just that, with Deanna gone and presumed dead, they didn’t have the chance to ‘unite’ the two families anymore. Bunch of cowards and lunatics.

Deanna collapsed back into her chair, sprawling, boneless. “So we’ve got the Daemons on one side being a general nuisance. And soon we’ll have the Engels on two sides, looking to subsume us into their ‘Great Empire’. Wonder when the Pagans will join in on the fun?”

“Nah,” Bobby replied, “They’re too busy crapping on each other’s heads to seriously consider crapping on ours right now.”

They lapsed into silence. Deanna glanced up a few times, opening her mouth to voice something on the tip of her tongue, but always she looked away again, gritting her teeth. Bobby watched each of these repetitions and didn’t say a word.

Finally, “Do you think he’s right? That …”

Bobby snorted. “Your daddy wanted you and your brothers to choose for yourselves. If there’s one thing he did right, it’s that.”

“Yeah, and teaching his daughter how to fight was wrong?” Deanna bristled.

“Didn’t say that,” Bobby shrugged.

She glared at him for another moment, then deflated. “But … if I chose to … well, it would still be my choice, and do you think that would be …”

Bobby shook his head. “Timing’s as important as the person, De. You gotta’ be able to choose both or there’s no point in choosing either.”

“But it’s for the good of the kingdom, Bobby! Dad made his sacrifices, and it’s the least I can do to-“

“You’ve been through enough already!” Bobby roared, slamming his hand on the desk. “Don’t you think for one moment that what happened hadn’t been enough, that you’ve got to give up more!”

“It’s my choice, Bobby!” she growled back, spinning away from him. "We need Walker with us on this, and if getting hitched will get him on board, well, then so am I.”

“You think just getting married will knock Walker off his high horse? Like hell. He’ll just find another excuse. Face it, De, if he doesn’t want to join then he never will, that stubborn son of a bitch.”

Deanna sighed. “Okay, then. Alternatives. Do we have any other options here, then, apart from being bloody sitting ducks? ‘Cause I’m not seeing anything from where I’m sitting at the moment.”

“Eventually the Engels will go after the Daemons,” Bobby shrugged. “Question is - will they go after them or us first.”

“Does it matter? Either way, they’ll get to us eventually.”

That was true enough. Story goes, on the deathbed of the last King, his oldest son Michael vowed to make his father’s dream of uniting the continent come true. Since then, he’d wrangled a surrender and treaty from the kingdom of Mort and started a two-headed war against the queen of Childe. A war that even now was wrapping up, Eve agreeing to their allegedly tyrannical terms – and probably her own execution – to save the remaining half of her kingdom from becoming the wasteland that the first half already was. Rumor now was that the Engels were casting their eyes to beyond the Mortal Ranges, to the domains of Mann and Daemon.

Privately, Deanna thought that it was far more likely the Engels would wage naval warfare against the Daemons first, due to the centuries-old enmity between the two lands. Not to mention that once Daemon land was down, Mann would be screwed on three borders. Not that they weren’t already, but then again, Engels posed a greater threat than Daemons did, any day.

And there was an idea. “Bobby … what about the Engels?”

Bobby stiffened, shooting a worried glare at her. “What fool idea have you gotten into your head now, Deanna Winchester?”

Ah, there it was, the full name, the one that gave her stewardship over the kingdom of Mann – or at least the Winchester lands – until Sam came of age. And fucking hell if Deanna had ever hated something more.

“Nothing you’ve never thought about, Bobby. They’ve got a fuckload of ‘adopted’ sons, any one of them would be enough to seal the deal and at least get a treaty like Mort’s. A better sight than the one with Childe, and it would keep Sammy and Adam safe as well.”

“And if they offered you a legitimate son instead? One of the big four?”

Deanna shrugged. “How can they? Michael’s sworn off marriage until he’s completed his vow. Lucifer is, for all intents and purposes, missing. So is Gabriel, unless they’ve pulled some miracle out of their asses. And Raphael may be the good, loyal son, but he’s hitched already. Anyway, I’d make it clear in whatever I send them that whoever I marry will never get to be King of Mann – that’s Sammy’s job when he comes of age. I won’t take that from him.”

Bobby sat back and watched her. She was right in that the idea had come to him before – an easy marriage deal, quick and painless, and a sight better than what they were looking at now as well. And it was true that the Engels had many adopted children – allegedly war orphans but just as likely to be the former king’s illegitimate children – so many that most people had just stopped counting after the first ten. Many of them were of an age to Deanna as well – the youngest of the four blooded children, Gabriel, was 27 summers, while most of the adopted sons averaged around 15 – and the Engels cared enough for them that a marriage deal made with one of them would be as binding as one made with one of the four. But …

He sighed. “Talk to Sam about this.”

Deanna frowned. “Bobby-“

“No. Promise me that you’ll talk to him about this first, whatever decision you make. I’m just one of your advisers. Sam’s the only one you really listen to.” He rose with another sigh, heading for the door.

Deanna looked away. “I … you know you’re like a father to me, Bobby.”

 

He paused, his hand on the doorknob. “I know,” he said gently, letting the door swing closed behind him, hiding his 16-year old Stewardess and Princess of the Realm from view.

* * *

 

Lately, there had been fewer lessons than before. John Winchester had, after finding that one of his older son’s tutors had actually been a Daemon spy, forbade Sam, then only five summers, from learning from anybody except his sister Deanna. And so Deanna, at only nine, became Sam’s only tutor in all things – from science to music, politics to archery, and everything in between. And all this whilst Deanna had her own lessons from various tutors, trusted then to distinguish between what was appropriate and what was possibly traitorous, or the result of another infiltration. But as Sam grew, it became apparent that his intellect, while not exactly outweighing his sister’s, was great enough that it soon caught up to, and even threatened to surpass Deanna’s without the structured, limited approach his former tutors took. That Deanna lost two years certainly didn’t help matters, so mostly Sam studied by himself in the library, learning from dusty tomes things which Deanna had no interest in – or no time to pursue.

Deanna didn’t mind, not the burden her father had placed on her or the vast and expanding knowledge of her younger brother. It was well known throughout the kingdom that Deanna was the most capable Winchester child in all things warlike – her aim was legendary and she could beat most, if not all, her captains in a fair duel. And though Deanna often teased Sam about this, she always remembered to reassure him, in whatever roundabout way she could, that one day he would grow taller, stronger, and possibly even outstrip her in terms of strength.

She maintained, however, that in technique, she’d always be superior.

So Deanna had expected to find Sam in the library or his study if the former area was too occupied today. Perhaps even in their baby brother Adam’s nursery, teaching him rudimentary mathematics as Sam often did when he was bored enough. Or even in the practice fields, shooting arrows in hopes of getting more than a single bulls-eye out of ten, or practicing his strikes against a harried guard.

But nowhere was he to be found.  By the time she’d ascertained with the few soldiers running drills in the practice yard that Sam hadn’t been seen there all day, wrinkles had started appearing between her eyes. That tightness made servants draw away quickly as she stormed through the halls.

As a last resort, she headed to Sam’s bedroom, far away from his other haunts. The worry that gnawed at her gut only worsened when she found that empty as well, bed neatly folded – Sam’s own work, of course. None of John Winchester’s children were allowed to have servants clean up their own rooms, a rule that Deanna enforced even after his death. Everything in there had to be kept clean by themselves – or, in Adam’s case, by his older siblings, being only four years of age.

They had taken breakfast separately that morning. The kitchen staff informed Deanna that Sam had eaten with Adam and Charlie Bradbury, John’s young ward, but a quick glance into the nursery showed both children playing with Joanna Harvelle and her mother, the Lady Ellen. None of them knew where Sam was either.

It was only by chance, when Deanna rushed through the guest wing, that she heard the laughter behind closed doors. A high, girlish giggle, and-

The tinkling, boyish laughter of an unbroken voice. Sammy.

Scowling, Deanna knocked perfunctorily twice before shoving open the door, to the shocked face of her baby brother who jumped up from his seat beside the desk, eyes guiltily wide and hands twisting nervously. “Uh-“

His companion didn’t seem to notice the tension between the siblings, breaking out into a huge dimpled smile. She jumped up, curtseyed with only a slight wobble – at the back of her mind, Deanna catalogued that as pretty impressive for a girl of only eleven – and said, perfectly clearly, “Princess Deanna! It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’ve heard so much from Samuel and everyone else here. I am Jessica, daughter of the Moore family – if you remember, Mother wrote you some weeks past about the possibility of fostering me until my debut?”

Deanna nodded absently. “Rise, yes, of course I remember. I said that we were rather busy at the moment but that we would love to. You arrived recently then?”

She noted how Sam hadn’t ceased fidgeting, despite how Deanna’s attention was rather obviously diverted. The girl – Jessica – stood and folded her hands demurely in front of her. The contrast between the two – the boy in earth toned functional clothes and the girl in pure white lace and ribbons – was striking. Deanna plucked at her own gown – long, darkly colored but lightweight, completely undecorated. “Oh, yes,” Jessica replied, “Just this morning in fact. Samuel was a great help, finding me my room and getting all my possessions settled. He was just telling me some interesting tales of the staff here, and-“

Deanna sighed, tuning out the rest of whatever the girl had to say. When silence finally descended, she ignored the girl and looked at Sam. “If this is where you’ve been all morning, you better not have slacked off. You promised Adam that you would recite all of Colt’s writings on the third Mann-Daemon war for him after supper tonight, remember.”

Sam relaxed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, De, went over that again last night before bed. I’ve had it memorized for years anyway, just needed to freshen it up a bit.”

Jessica looked between the two with wide eyes, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Oh,” she whispered softly, “You’re Prince Samuel, the boy King? But I thought …”

Deanna chuckled coldly. “Yeah, that’s our Sammy. Now, it’s good to meet you, but I need to speak with my brother now. We’ll talk at dinner. In the meantime, get one of the servants to show you to the nursery, Ellen can find something for you to do until then. Sammy.” Deanna swept out of the room without another word.

Sam sighed, throwing a still obviously shocked Jessica a smile and a longing look, bowing as he left, running to catch up with the longer strides of his sister. He shrunk as they walked, Deanna’s anger rolling off her in waves. A few corridors away, she spun to face him in front of a handy alcove.

“What was that?”

“I was just being nice, De, don’t be mad. When she arrived she looked so confused, and nobody really paid her any attention, so …”

“So you spent the last hour alone with her in her room with the door closed in a deserted wing? You’re lucky you’re still only twelve, if you were any older-“

“I know!” Sam scowled, stomping a foot angrily. “I get it, okay? I wouldn’t have done it if we weren’t still both children. Really!”

Deanna threw him another disgruntled look, but sighed, collapsing against the wall. “Alright. I trust you with your little crush. Just … be careful, okay?”

Sam slumped. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “I know. I will.”

“Okay.”

There was a moment of silence. “It’s not a crush-“

 

Deanna laughed. “Whatever you say, kiddo. Come on, I didn’t comb through the entire bloody castle looking for you for no reason. We need to talk.”

* * *

 

Predictably, Deanna hadn’t even gotten ten words in when Sam cried out, puppy eyes out full force, “No, De, you can’t!”

Deanna sighed. “And this is why I shouldn’t listen to Bobby all the time,” she murmured under her breath, before raising her voice. “I can and I will do whatever’s best for the kingdom, Sammy. For what’s best for us. You know that.”

“All too well,” Sam spat, looking away. So those two years hadn’t gone over too well with him, then. Too bad.

She said that out loud. “Too bad, Sammy. It’s the only idea I’ve come up with so far that doesn’t end up with either the entire kingdom laid to waste or all our heads on an execution block. Heck, knowing those Engel bastards, we’d probably even get the hangman’s noose instead. It’s our only option and you know it.”

“We could-“

Sam cut himself off, looking away. But Deanna noticed, and fixed him with a glare.

“Could what? Ally with the Daemons? Even if they’d go for it, which they never would, it still wouldn’t be enough to hold our own against the Engels, never mind take them down. And the Pagans are too busy stewing in their own shit to agree to an alliance, as always. There’s no way out of this.”

Sam deflated. “But you said it yourself, De!” he protested, though more sulkily than vehemently. “The Engels are bastards. There’s no way to know that they’ll even honor a treaty.”

Deanna shrugged. “Yeah, but they’re still more reliable than the Daemons. And they care enough about their own that if we go through with this they won’t hurt us. Or you, at least.”

Sam sighed explosively, still refusing to meet Deanna’s eyes. “What if it was me, instead?” he asked softly. “Or-“

“Don’t you dare.”

Sam shut up instantly at the venom in Deanna’s voice. She continued, softer. “You know I’d never ask that of you, Sammy, and never of Adam either. I’d never sell you like that.”

“But it’s okay to sell yourself?”

Deanna shrugged. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Nothing I haven’t done before, anyway.”

And that was low, she knew, but she also knew that it would stop him from protesting more. She was hardly above using cheap tricks to get her way.

Sam circled around her desk and wrapped his tiny arms around her. He was still so little, she thought, not even up to my shoulders yet, though only four years younger. Such a small thing with such a huge brain and an even bigger heart.

“I just want you to be happy,” he told her in a small voice, muffled into her sternum.

“Yeah,” she told him, hands smoothing over his hair. “I know.”

* * *

 

Michael was obviously very enthusiastic about the deal, Deanna thought dazedly as, not even a full month later she was roused from bed at five in the morning to greet the newly arrived carriage. It usually took a full two weeks for even the fastest riders to travel from Castle Engel to Hunter’s Point, the capital of Winchester and Mann.

She sprawled on the couch in her receiving room, not bothering to change out of her nightgown or run a brush through her hair, though an advance rider had arrived a half-hour ago to announce the imminent arrival of a Prince Engel.

A yawn escaped her, followed by a baleful glare at the maid trying to coax her into proper attire, at the very least. But honestly? If they arrived at such a time, and expected to be received, then they’d better not mind what state she was in.

She had almost drifted off again when the double doors finally banged open, followed immediately by a slender man of average height, obviously in travelling finery, unadorned but for a sword by his side. In the dim flickering light of a banked fire and several candles, the color of his hair and clothing was an indistinguishable dark mass.

Deanna raised a brow. From the few portraits that had reached her, this was none other than Lucifer, who was currently allegedly missing.

Only when she heard the squeak of protest did she realize that Lucifer hadn’t come alone. Rather, he was dragging behind him – was that a leash? On a _collar_? – A much shorter, similarly slender man, chained at both hands and feet. Unlike Lucifer, his face was entirely unfamiliar. Deanna’s other brow shot up to match the first.

“Yeah, the kingdom of Mann doesn’t support slavery,” she blurted out without thinking. The shorter man made a muffled noise of indignation, and Deanna noticed that he was gagged as well.

“I assure you, dear girl, he isn’t a slave,” Lucifer snorted. “Despite his current appearance, he is Gabriel, fourth Prince of Engel. I am Lucifer, second Prince of Engel, here only to escort my wayward brother here who comes bearing a reply from our esteemed older brother and King. It is lovely to meet you, I’m sure, but now my task is done and I must be going. Good day.”

Leaving his younger brother trussed up on the floor, Lucifer bowed quickly and left as quickly as he had entered. His footsteps echoed in the chamber, and after a while, were replaced by the sound of stamping hooves as he left the castle altogether.

“Well that was rude,” the maid muttered under her breath, looking rather shell-shocked herself. Deanna sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. The pounding in her head only increased as she exchanged glares with the bound man on the ground – distantly, she thought that it must be rather cold there on the stone floor.

“Gabriel, huh? And here I thought you were missing. Wonder where they dug your ass out from?” she wondered aloud, to the shocked gasp of her maid and Gabriel’s mumbled reply – probably an insult, more than anything else. With a groan, Deanna got up to kneel beside him. Yeah, okay, the floor was cold.

Gently, she untied the gag, wincing in sympathy as he spat out the wet fabric, smacking his mouth a few times to wet it again. “Do you know where the keys are?” she asked when he settled.

Gabriel snorted. “Lucy,” he croaked out, and frowned. Deanna motioned to the maid, who quickly went to pour some ale. Handing the cup to Gabriel, she waited for him to finish drinking.

“Thanks,” he finally said, sounding much smoother than before. “Hadn’t drunk for hours, since he gagged me for being too loud, that bastard. But yeah, he took the keys with him. Bitch.”

Deanna smirked, fiddling around with the hem of her nightgown, drawing out a long, bent wire. “Luckily for you, this won’t take a second,” she assured him, getting to work on the chains. Sure enough the locks popped open one after the other with only minimal fiddling.

“You keep a lock pick in your dress?” Gabriel said, shaking out and stretching his abused limbs. “Ouch … been like this for days, you have no idea.”

Deanna did know, actually, but shrugged, getting up and offering him her hand. He took it, and she pulled him up. They stared at each other for a moment, neither letting go.

“Well, I suppose it’s nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his captive hand. “I am Deanna, Princess and Stewardess of Winchester and Mann. We welcome you to our home.”

“Gabriel, at your service. Michael sent a letter with me, but that’s in the carriage with the rest of my belongings, and some … gifts … for you, I think.”

Deanna snorted. “Yeah, no. Now all the polite shit’s out of the way, there’s no way I’m doing anything else before sun up. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks. Sarah here can get you settled for now, and get someone to bring up your stuff. We’ll talk at a more decent hour. Like noon. Or later.”

As she spoke, a smirk grew on Gabriel’s face, until it was a full out grin. “Oh, I think I like you already,” he told her. “Promise me something sweet for breakfast and we have a deal.”

Deanna rolled her eyes. “Sure, whatever, just leave any requests with Sarah. I’ve only slept for about three hours so far, and I’d really like a bit more before I need to get back to work. Good morn.”

She curtseyed to him, rather mockingly, and he returned a bow in the same fashion. Deanna couldn’t help but notice, as he was being led away, that he was actually a few inches shorter than she was.

Once she could no longer hear their steps, she collapsed back onto her couch and groaned. This, this was what she had been most wary of. There was no way she could agree to marry one of Michael’s blood brothers. Sure, Gabriel was better than Lucifer, but …

She’d have to find some reason or another to refuse, and risk offending them. From what she’d heard of Michael, that was probably their plan – to pretend to agree to her request, only to declare war when she reneged on her side of the deal.

There was a way she could avoid that, of course, but bringing up shit like those two years wouldn’t just be awkward, but freaking painful too. Still, she may have to, depending on where the dice fell.

She put it out of her mind for now. It was far too early to do anything but sleep, and only the thought of Bobby – or worse, Sammy – finding her in one of the coldest rooms in the castle in only a nightgown prevented her from going back to sleep where she lay. Instead, she dragged herself back to a cooled bed, wincing as she slid herself under her covers.

Thankfully, exhaustion pulled her under before her worries could penetrate through the haze.

* * *

 

Gabriel found her at noon, as promised, but again Deanna was not appropriately attired, at least in a way that most would expect. Instead, she wore a tunic and breeches, and from the back looked completely like a boy.

She was on the practice fields, her sword metal though likely blunted, sparring against a younger boy – or teaching him, as it seemed, barking out corrections, using the flat of the blade to push open his legs just the smallest fraction, lowering a shoulder here, bending a knee there. The boy, though obviously not as skilled as she was, improved by the minute, strikes becoming more confident, surer in its destination. Nonetheless, after another five or so minutes, Deanna neatly disarmed him, sword point resting on his sternum.

“And in this position, what do you do?” she asked him just as his shoulders started to slump.

The boy closed his eyes, twitching, relaxing, as though counting in his head. Then in a fluid motion he flowed around the sword, ducking left, unsheathing a hidden blade.

But again it seemed that she was ready for him as she grabbed his armed hand, releasing her sword, and spun him around, using his momentum against him to pull him to her chest, resting the tip of his own knife on his throat. “Not bad,” she told him, “but not good enough yet.”

Gabriel whistled and clapped, leaning casually against a post. That turned out to be a mistake as, in a second, the boy’s knife whistled towards the air, landing a bare centimeter above his head, quivering in the wood. Gabriel froze.

Deanna lowered her hand slowly, face completely blank. “Don’t sneak up on me when I have weapons close at hand,” she told him. “In fact, never sneak up on me at all. I always have weapons at hand.”

Gabriel raised both hands in the air in surrender. “Whoa there, sorry, didn’t mean to offend. You told me this morning to find you at a more decent hour, and well,” he bowed with a flourish, “here I am. At your pleasure, ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t call me that,” she said, “nobody does. Deanna will do.” She looked to the boy still at her side who waited patiently, albeit with a pout. “And this is Samuel Winchester, Prince and Heir to the realm. Sammy, this is Gabriel, fourth Prince of Engel.”

Apparently that was enough, as the boy’s – Sam’s – eyes lit up in understanding. Quickly, he strode forward, to offer Gabriel his hand. “You’re my sister’s suitor, then,” he said in a high, clear voice as they shook. “But I wonder if the kingdom of Engel seeks to offend us, sending us their prodigal son? We are not a dumping ground for your refuse.” Much to Gabriel’s surprise, the little hand in his increased in grip until it hovered around his pain threshold.

Only a sigh and a call of “Sammy,” behind him made Sam release his grip, though his eyes still shone with hostility. “We would not have minded if you had sent us any of the adopted sons, even,” he added. “Just not the rebellious one.”

“You’re the rebellious one,” Deanna told him, coming up behind Sam to cuff him upside his head. He yelped and clutched at it, sticking out his tongue at her, earning an amused chuckle. “Shut up and go wash up, it’s lunchtime.” She watched as Sam scampered off with nary a bow at either Deanna or Gabriel, her lips quirked in a fond smirk. Only when she couldn’t see him anymore did she turn back to Gabriel, more serious than before. “I’m sorry for his words,” she said, “he’s usually the polite one. I have no idea what’s gotten into him, actually.”

Gabriel shrugged. He bet he knew exactly what had gotten into the kid. “Bit too late to start on the manners now, isn’t it?” he asked with a raised brow. “But don’t worry about it, kid’s right – I am the rebel son, compared to most of the others anyway.” He tried to be stoic for another second, before giving up and shaking out his hand with a wince, opening and closing it to try and regain circulation. “Kid’s got a mean grip on him, though – get that from you?”

Deanna grinned widely. “Nah, got that all by himself. By the time I- by the time I was 14, anyway, he already had a firm grip – almost squeezed me to death, I swear.”

When she gave up all those pretenses that the Engel lords and ladies paraded around like show horses, she was radiant.

Gabriel watched as she gathered up the practice swords, followed her to a small shed where she cleaned both of them meticulously then hung them up to join an entire wall of other swords, of all lengths and widths. He stepped forwards hesitantly and asked, “May I?”

She glanced back from her task to look at him, considering. “Oh, you came without a blade on you so I assumed … of course, just be careful – they’re all sharp.”

He raised a brow.

Deanna laughed at his surprise. “You thought they were blunt, right? Far as Dad was concerned, it’s just good incentive to dodge, and I agreed enough to continue the tradition with Sam and Adam. Both are freaking champions at getting out of the way, now.” She smiled wistfully. “Suppose I was the same, at their age.”

Gabriel shrugged and lifted one of the swords off the wall, hefting it experimentally. Making a face at the balance and weight he quickly replaced it, trying out another. Deanna watched him carefully as he went through the collection, never lingering on a single blade for more than a few seconds. “If you find a decent one, we can have a bout before lunch?”

Gabriel turned away from the current blade – the only one he hadn’t replaced straight away so far – with a sharp look. “Sure that’s a good idea?” he smirked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Deanna seemed to bristle, her brows snapping together and eyes narrowing to slits.

Gabriel’s smirk widened. “Nothing much. Still need to give you Michael’s letter, remember? Sure you wouldn’t prefer doing that first?”

“Now you listen here, bastard,” she growled, advancing menacingly, “just cause I don’t have three lumps between my legs doesn’t make me any less capable than the rest of you pricks. Pick a blade, let’s get it on.”

Gabriel snickered. “Defensive much?” he shot back, turning back to his selection. Giving a few experimental thrusts, he nodded to himself. “Yeah, sure, this one will do.” He leaned against the table, twirling the sword around in a fancy, if useless, pattern. “Sure you want to do this, darling? Wouldn’t want to damage your pretty little face now.”

For some reason, Gabriel’s statement made Deanna’s anger dissipate, leaving only a blank mask. She turned back to the rack where she’d deposited her and Sammy’s swords before, choosing another one. Apparently that particular section was full of appropriate swords for her and her family, judging by how she simply turned back to him without testing the blade at all. “Normally fight with anything else? Knives, shields, we’ve got all that here.”

“Nah, got my daggers right here,” he told her, slipping down his sleeves a little. Deanna nodded, still worryingly blank, and led them back to the practice ring.

“Until one of us yields,” she said, already in stance, “or first blood.” He nodded in agreement, assuming his own position. They circled around each other, eyeing the other’s swords, the distance, the grip, their careful, measured steps.

When she moved, Deanna was lightning fast, and Gabriel realized just how much she had held back against her little brother. There hadn’t been any gaps in her defense before, but now she was like a fortress – utterly impenetrable. She was straightforward – no traps, no lures – but incredibly cunning all the same, fast enough that even knowing what she was about to do, Gabriel could do nothing but block, unable to take advantage of the knowledge.

He hurriedly backed away, putting some measure of distance between them. His gaze was now more wary, none of the cocky smirk he had worn before, and a drop of sweat ran down his neck. Deanna’s face showed nothing.

Deanna had reach and height over Gabriel, and he was willing to bet that in terms of brute strength she was probably just as, if not stronger than, him. It wasn’t as if he had never sparred against girls before – his little sister Rachael, while a perfect lady most of the time, was also a feisty little thing that scrapped as well as any wildcat – and while some of them had been taller and stronger than him, he’d always been faster, more cunning, able to get under their skin with just a few well-placed words to put them off their game. In this case, Gabriel was a bit scared to even try that tactic – the blankness was honestly freaking him out.

Nonetheless, the made the next move, dodging around her to try and get a swipe at her back. Unsurprisingly, she caught his strike, hilt to hilt, bearing down on him for a second before disengaging to sweep down, a leg catching Gabriel’s knees. He wobbled for a second, and by the time he had recovered, found Deanna already swinging again, this time at his loosened grip.

He yelped, the flat of the blade thwacking his wrist with enough force for him to completely drop his sword. He looked up in time to see her other hand head towards his throat, the point of a dagger resting lightly on the hollow of his neck.

Eyes wide, he raised both hands. “Yield, I yield,” he said, finding himself unable to back away – sometime during the last exchange, Deanna had managed to corner him against the ropes surrounding the ring, completely without his notice. He watched curiously as, without turning away, she tucked the dagger away, bending down slowly to retrieve his dropped sword. Only when both weapons were in hand did her shoulders seem to drop incrementally, relaxing just a fraction. Her eyes were still wary.

Gabriel laughed, trying to dispel the tension. “Guess I owe you an apology, oh great and worth sword mistress. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

Finally, Deanna’s eyes softened, and she blushed as she turned away. “Here and there,” she muttered, almost shyly, flipping Gabriel’s sword around to offer him the hilt. “You’re cleaning that up yourself,” she told him gruffly.

“Fair enough,” he shrugged, still grinning. “But seriously, that was amazing. I mean, back home I wasn’t ever the best warrior – more of a tactician, really – but … my sisters would love to meet you. You’d probably become little Rachael’s hero.”

Deanna seemed to relax more as he talked about his family with fondness, rubbing at the back of her neck in embarrassment. “Dad taught me like he would’ve taught any boy,” she muttered, “and the rest, I got the soldiers to show me a few tricks. And as I said, I picked up stuff … here and there, watching and shit. It’s nothing special.”

Gabriel could tell that there was something that she held back, and resolved to find out the answer eventually. For now, he just shrugged. “It was great anyway. Now, where did you keep the rags?”

* * *

 

 

Afterwards, Gabriel would remember that while he’d been panting hard by the end of the bout, Deanna’s breathing hadn’t changed at all.

* * *

 

Deanna left Gabriel with a passing guard to lead him back to his rooms where he could freshen up, and left to do the same herself for lunch, promising to discuss Michael’s letter and whatever else Gabriel had brought after they were well fed.

He hadn’t expected to be faced with the inquisition at lunch, not without Deanna as a buffer. Apparently she ate in the study. Figures.

For once in his life it was really rather difficult to keep the smile on his face. But then again, facing down the hostile faces of four children, a formidable looking woman with the most suspicious frown he’d ever seen and a disgruntled, stocky older man had never been his idea of a good time.

He gritted his teeth but went with it, taking a seat at the very edge of the table, next to the larger of the two tiny girls. Children he could handle. He remembered when some of his siblings had been that small. He probably still had one or two their age, actually, considering when their father had died and the number of new adoptions that had occurred every year before Gabriel left. Not that he’d met any of them. Maybe he would never get the chance to, either.

The little girl beside him scowled, puffing her cheeks up. “You can’t have De,” she told him, fully serious. “You’re too short.”

Gabriel blinked at her. “O…kay?”

“And anyway, _everyone_ knows that De likes girls more than boys, and you’re a boy.”

Aww, how cute, they didn’t start training the girls to be perfect little brides as soon as they could crawl here, then. Another difference from home. Gabriel found himself liking Mann over Engel more and more.

“Charlie!” Robert Singer – according to one of the chattier maids, not that there were many, and even the most loquacious hadn’t given more than the names of the major Lords and Ladies currently living in the castle – barked. The little girl – Charlie, wasn’t that a boy’s name? – scowled harder, bared her sharp little teeth and turned back to her food, shoving down a mouthful and chewing ferociously, glaring at Gabriel from the corner of her eye as if imagining that it was him that she was chewing instead of chicken. Gabriel resolved to keep away from her pearly whites as much as possible.

He cleared his throat. “So,” he said with a wide grin, trying to break the frosty silence that had descended since he’d entered and sat down. “My name’s Gabriel and I suppose I’m something like an ambassador from Engel at the moment. It’s great to meet you!”

Robert grunted. “Yeah, we know who you are kid. Bobby Singer, that’s Sir Robert to you.”

The woman – probably Ellen Harvelle, one of the major families whose lands equaled roughly an eighth of Mann – frowned at Bobby and sighed. “Should’ve known better than to expect some civility from you barbarians,” she told him disapprovingly, but the gaze she swept across the table made it clear that she was also addressing the children. “Ignore the old grump, he’ll answer to Bobby. As for the rest of us, well, I’m Ellen. The little terror on my left is Jo, my daughter, and the littlest one is Adam Winchester, second Prince. I’ve heard that you’ve met Sam already” – and when had she heard that? Sam had arrived bare seconds before Gabriel himself, he’d seen the boy enter the hall. What a terrifying thought – “so all that’s left is Charlie Bradbury, the last King Winchester’s ward, now officially adopted into their family.”

Gabriel looked at Ellen adoringly. It was good to have someone around who didn’t want to bloodily dismember him – or at least hid the urge incredibly well.

She ignored him. “None of us really ever stand on ceremony here,” she continued, “so don’t expect to be treated special or anything. The maids can and will fight if you try anything, and that would give Deanna a great reason to send your ass packing back to big brother. Don’t cause trouble, don’t be too insulting, and we’ll get along fine. Understand?”

Gabriel frowned, insulted. “I don’t know what you think we are back in Engel,” he told her, “But none of us would ever try to force someone. We do have a concept of honor, you know.”

Ellen shrugged. “Heard it all before, seen it a few times, too. It doesn’t matter to any of us what you say – it’s what we see that counts.” She returned to her food, and to the tasks of coaxing Adam to eat neatly.

Gabriel turned away with a frown. Well, this was a great bundle of joy big brother had dropped him into – he could just tell how much fun he’d have here.

The two little girls continued glaring at him, and Sam ignored him in favor of a quiet conversation with Bobby. Gabriel sighed.

Fuck it all.

Despite the overall unfriendly atmosphere, lunch was a quick affair. Once Adam had taken a last bite and refused any more, Ellen collected the three younger children and ushered them away, presumably back to the nursery. Bobby took his time finishing but soon he and Sam also left, still talking in hushed tones. Gabriel was left forlornly at the table, watching the maids utterly ignore him as they worked around him to clear the tables.

A few minutes later Sam came running back in. “What are you doing still sitting there?” he asked with a frown. “De’s been expecting you for ages now. She’s in her study, I’ll take you there, come on already!”

Gabriel was on his feet and out the door before Sam finished speaking. “Sure, lead the way kiddo!” he said with a bright smile, which Sam utterly ignored, turning on his heel and walking off quickly, shoulders hunched and grim.

Gabriel sighed. “I really don’t know why you all seem to hate me,” he mourned. “It’s not like we’ve actually talked or anything. Pretty sure I’ve never done anything to you or your family either, so-“

“Yeah, but you’re about to do something, aren’t you?” Sam cut in, throwing a glare over his shoulder. “You want to take De away, probably back to Engel land, and then we’ll never get to see her again. But that’s not even the worst part,” he added. “You see, dad always promised us that the one thing he’d never force us to do is marry. We’d be able to choose when and who, and he’d even promised that he’d never force us to if we didn’t ever want to. But now De’s going to sacrifice that as well, all because your brother’s a dick, and-“

Apparently sometime during Sam’s spiel they’d arrived because Sam had stopped and turned fully around to shout at Gabriel, who took half a step back at Sam’s vehemence. But before Sam could finish, the door behind them slammed open, and Deanna strode out, catching a hold of Sam’s ear and twisting. “Sam, shut up,” she ordered. “Back to your room, now. That outburst just proves that you’re not ready for shit like this. I want an essay on proper information to give to strangers and minding your fucking manners by dinner, got it?”

“But you know I’m right!” Sam shouted back petulantly.

Deanna raised a brow. “You want to add three hours more of drills tomorrow?” she asked almost airily. “We could do that. For the rest of the month, even. You’ve obviously got too much energy to burn off if you’re here insulting our guests rather than practicing or researching.”

That, at least, made Sam back down though he still scowled unhappily. “Apologize,” Deanna demanded, and as soon as Sam mumbled out what might have been an apology (or may have been a muffled insult), let go of him. Sam ran off, sticking out his tongue to Gabriel as he went.

Deanna grimaced. “Ignore him,” she told Gabriel. “The kid’s too fucking high strung. Don’t know where he gets it from, seriously – not me, that’s for sure.” She gestured to the door with a quick smile. “Come on in, or do you need something from your room first?”

Gabriel shrugged, a smile of his own flitting across his face for a second. “I’ve got Michael’s letter on me now, if that’s what you mean,” he told her, slipping it out from his clothing. “There are a few small trinkets for you in the smaller trunk in my room, though.”

Deanna waved him in. “I’ll get a footman to deliver those,” she promised, and did so as Gabriel surveyed the room.

The first thing he thought was really fucking utilitarian. There weren’t any decorations anywhere, no portraits, tapestries, rugs or hunting trophies, no weapons on the wall, nothing of sentimental value. The table and chairs were ugly, square things, shapeless and worn though obviously comfortable. An old couch sat perpendicular to the desk, cushions plump but threadbare, upholstery sun-faded, original patterns indiscernible. Overall, it was a stark contrast to the dining hall with its polished tables, gleaming plates, and portraits staring gloomily at the diners.

Deanna saw his expression and smirked. “Dad never really cared for aesthetics. Preferred minimal distractions, that man, but he slept in here too often to not have comfortable chairs at least.”

Gabriel barked out a laugh. “Yeah, Michael’s the same,” he replied with a fond smile. “Always stayed up finishing up work ‘til he collapsed. Me and Lucy would then have heaps of fun trying to get him back to bed without waking him. Luckily, once he’s asleep, he’s dead to the world until the cock crows.”

“None of your other siblings helped?” Deanna asked with a curious frown, ushering Gabriel towards the couch. She sat when he did, but not on her customary chair on the far side of the desk – rather, she took the guest chair, turning its back to him and straddling it as she would a horse, resting her arms on the low back and her chin on top. She watched him as he struggled with his answer.

Finally, Gabriel shrugged. “Raphael was already married by the time Michael took over from our Father. And Michael insisted on appearing perfect … impeachable, even, to our younger siblings. To make them feel safer even now when Dad’s gone. One of his better traits,” he told her wistfully. “Too bad they actually believed it. I have no idea how he’s holding up now that both Lucy and I are gone.” He sighed, slumping.

They shared a quiet moment, each lost in their own memories, before shaking them off and turning back to the present. Gabriel smirked at Deanna, holding out the envelope. “From big bro, with all his regards,” he said with a flourished bow – or as much as was possible while still sitting. Deanna smirked back as she took the letter from him, cracking open the wax seal with little regard for how expensive it was, or the paper it was written on.

She flipped it open, scanning it quickly first before reading it again more carefully, lingering over each word as if making sure that what she read was correct. With each subsequent word her brows rose a little more, until her eyes were hugely wide. When she finished the second time she paused for a moment, as if debating the merits of reading it again, before folding it up again and handing it to Gabriel.

“Read it,” she told him, and waited for him to do so.

He finished much quicker than she did, though he didn’t seem to be anywhere nearly as surprised as she was. “I don’t really see what’s wrong with it,” he told her with a raised brow of his own.

“That’s what I can’t figure out,” Deanna said, getting up angrily and pacing. “He’s so … nice about this. We thought that he’d try and force my hand or something, send me someone to bring me back to his castle and force me to marry within the month. Instead he’s giving me time – not only to get used to the idea of marriage, but to get to know my … potential husband, or whatever.” She stopped and rounded on Gabriel. “And why am I telling you this anyway?” she ranted. “You’re his first choice for husband apparently, but he said that if we weren’t … compatible, or whatever, he could send somebody else. Why’s he being so considerate?”

Gabriel faced her calmly. “Is it really that much of a surprise that he doesn’t want any of his brothers miserable?” he asked quietly. “Because he doesn’t, you know. I don’t know what stories have circulated here about him, but Michael is … he’s genuinely kind. Self-righteous, of course, and stubborn as a mule, but he wouldn’t hurt people who aren’t in his way. Don’t get me wrong, he’s ruthless when he has to be, but from what I’ve heard you offered a treaty first, and that would’ve probably given him some measure of relief. He wants to unite the continent, not become tyrannical overlord.” He cracked a smile. “That’s more Lucy’s territory, anyway.”

Deanna gave him a flat look. “You’re telling me what he did in Childe was … what, mercy? I’ve had men there, heard the reports – it’s fucking devastation. Entire villages razed, wasteland where there was once farmland. Only reason Eve surrendered in the end was to save the rest of her land.”

Gabriel’s smirk was mirthless. “I told you. Ruthless with those who gets in his way. I can promise you that he had some sleepless nights over that, though.”

“Fat lot of good that does all the widows and starving children,” Deanna snorted, turning away again. There was another silence, this time much more tense.

Deanna dispelled it with a sigh. “I can’t marry you,” she told him, blunt.

Gabriel gave her a horrified look. “Oh, I hope not,” he replied with a shudder. “You’re what, 16? Sweetie, I’m 27 – and sorry, but little virgins? Not my thing.”

“Taller than you,” Deanna shot back almost reflexively, then froze for a second. “Wait,” she said, turning back to fix him with her intense eyes. “You said virgin.”

He raised a single brow and smirked. “Aren’t you?”

Deanna’s eyes narrowed, maybe at his cocky tone, maybe at something else. “No,” she said shortly, then grinned widely, teeth bared. “Haven’t you heard?”

“What, Daddy’s little girl got dirty with some of the soldier boys?” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Deanna stared at him incredulously, then burst out laughing.

Gabriel stared, mildly shocked, until she gasped out, “There’s so many things wrong with that statement I don’t even …” she continued laughing, until it started sounding suspiciously like sobs. Gabriel sat up, alarmed, eyes darting around the room. It had never been his job to look after crying little siblings – that was always Michael, or even Lucy. Gabriel dealt with the spitfires and the babies, Mike was the safety blanket and protector, and Lucy was the caregiver.

But he needn’t have worried, as Deanna pulled herself together. “First of all,” she told him coldly, “Daddy dearest didn’t have a sweet little princess. He had a soldier girl. And secondly, yeah, I got dirty with the soldiers. And the King of the Daemons. And all his dukes, too. Not even sure I’m fertile anymore.” Her eyes turned to the ceiling, lips pulled wide in a parody of a smile. “Haven’t been a virgin since 13, _sweetie_ , and it’s why I can’t marry any of the legitimate sons. Once a slut, always a slut, right? I get enough shit here, thanks – and I wouldn’t stand for it anywhere else.” She glared at him.

Gabriel flinched and lowered his head, hiding his eyes. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know.”

Deanna rolled her eyes. “Obviously,” she spat out derisively, “or you never would’ve come here, right? Well, sorry to have wasted your time, hope you have a nice trip back – and your spies are obviously useless if they didn’t tell you about that particular incident. It lasted two bloody years, and was the reason for the end of one war and the beginning of another.”

She stood up, heading to the door to show him out. Gabriel’s mouth hung open for a moment, then started. “Shit, girl,” he said, “That’s not what I meant. Sit back down, let’s talk this through, okay?”

Deanna stopped at the door, turning back reluctantly. “Yeah?” she groused. “What about?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Look, I wouldn’t have married you regardless, okay? You’re just way too young, and I’m not into fucking kids whether they’re virgins or not. That’s not the important part.” He sighed. “I’ve been away from home, and without news, for five years now. Just after Dad died, really. Michael probably sent me because he knew that I wouldn’t care either way, and also because I’m a bloody good ambassador to boot.” He shrugged helplessly. “Or would’ve been, if everyone here weren’t so bloody inhospitable,” he said with a small grin. “Anyway, that means that Michael probably does know, and doesn’t care. I’ll send him a letter, tell him that I’m too old for you and vice versa, and he’ll send somebody else.”

Deanna threw herself back into her chair. “But you’ll still fuck off?” she asked almost hopefully, making Gabriel roll his eyes.

But his gaze turned more serious and a tiny bit nervous. “Actually,” he said sardonically, “I’d prefer it if you’d let me stay? This place is a lot more fun than back home already,” he said, gesturing expansively at the empty room. Deanna looked at him disbelievingly and waited.

“Oh, okay,” Gabriel finally growled, crossing his arms. “Look, I left when Dad died for a reason, and that was because Engel’s too bloody constricting without Dad to even things out. He was one of the few things holding us together, and when he left … it was hell for a while. Mike was the obvious choice for next King, and Lucy wouldn’t have minded, but bloody nobles pit them against each other until they were almost tearing each other’s throats out.” He turned away in disgust. “It’s calmed down now, but mostly because Lucy’s not anywhere near Engel anymore – he’s travelling, much like I was, except Michael gave him permission to or something. But I can’t stand that,” he told her earnestly, placing both palms on his thighs and leaning forwards. “I can’t be with some of my brothers and see the gaping hole that was Father, that is Lucy.” He shuddered. “I couldn’t bear it when it was just Dad. Lucy will break me.”

“So none of your brothers is better than most?” Deanna asked, still skeptical.

“Yes!” Gabriel replied furiously.

Deanna surveyed him for another few seconds, while Gabriel fidgeted. “Alright then,” she decided. “So you’re the official ambassador from Engel. Write your letter to Michael and I’ll have a messenger deliver it tomorrow. In the meantime, Bobby will probably want to talk to you about how this will work, and what a treaty between our two countries will entail. Don’t annoy any of the staff, don’t annoy any of the kids, and for everyone’s sake keep out of Ellen’s hair, and we’ll be all good. Castle gates close at sunset – miss that and you’ll be staying in town for the night – there’s a few good inns there, ask the soldiers about decent brothels if that’s more your thing.” She leered at him. “Apart from that, do whatever you want – I don’t give a shit. But try anything on the maids and you’ll be out on your ass sooner than you can say ‘asshole’ and I’ll send a letter to Michael detailing exactly why you’re banned from the entirety of Mann for life, understand?”

Gabriel sighed in relief, then bristled. “Why does everyone here think that I’m going to assault the maids?” he asked the ceiling.

“Because we’ve had assholes here in the past,” Deanna replied flatly, which okay, was fair enough, but still made Gabriel pout.

They bantered for a few moments. While their conversation had hardly been anything approaching formal before, now they exchanged insults like long lost friends or something, until there was a knock on the door. Startled, Deanna turned towards it, ready to call out, but it opened before that and Sam flounced in, holding under an arm a small chest.

“Oh, I’d almost forgotten about that,” Deanna murmured, then frowned. “Sammy, I thought I told you to get to your studies?”

Sam shrugged expansively. “But one of the footmen told me that Gabriel wanted this chest,” he said innocently, “except he didn’t know where Gabriel slept last night and I did so I offered to do it for him.” He beamed angelically.

Deanna sighed. “Whatever, kiddo,” she said, and gestured to Gabriel. “You said you wanted it?”

Sam approached them carefully, dumping the chest in Gabriel’s lap and settling in beside him. He kept smiling even as Deanna gave him her most unimpressed look, a grin that became more triumphant when Deanna finally rolled her eyes and ignored him.

“Err,” Gabriel said, amused at their interactions. “So Michael just stuffed this in with my stuff, I don’t actually know what’s in it,” he told her. “He probably got Anna, one of our younger sisters with a better taste in all things feminine than he does, to pick things out for you, so I can guarantee that any normal girl will like it, but …” he shot her a look. “Yeah, you probably won’t.”

Deanna laughed. “I’ll give whatever I don’t like to Jo and Charlie,” she assured him with a smile, making him laugh as well. He opened the chest, and Sam leaned over to look at what was in it. He instantly stiffened, slamming the lid closed almost on Gabriel’s fingers. Luckily, he drew them away just in time.

“What the hell, kid!” Gabriel said, and Deanna, too, looked at Sam strangely.

Sam ignored Gabriel. “You won’t just dislike these, De,” he said seriously, “You’ll hate them. Let me pick through them first, and I’ll choose which ones you’ll probably like?”

Deanna kept frowning at him. After a moment, her eyes widened in realization, and a small breath escaped her. “Oh,” she said, turning away for a second. When she turned back, she wore a soft smile, and shook her head. “No, Sammy, it’s fine. Show me?”

Sam gnawed on his bottom lip nervously, but nodded, refusing to look at her. Cautiously, Gabriel opened the chest again and drew out its contents one by one, laying them out beside him on the couch.

They were heavy gold pieces studded with emeralds. Some were delicate filigree, carefully wrought into wonderful designs, small gems winking all over, while others were blocky with huge stones as their centerpiece. Necklaces, bracelets, cuffs, crowns, earrings and rings and anklets to boot. A few vials of perfume came last, wrapped carefully in bolts of velvet.

Gabriel watched her as he handled the jewelry, as Deanna became tenser as each new piece was laid out before her. As the last bottle was put aside and the chest closed and put aside, she drew in a shuddering breath, and smiled. It was so fake it almost hurt, and even Gabriel could tell just how insincere she was as she thanked him. Not once did her eyes stray over the ornamentation.

Finally, she addressed Sam. “Show these to Charlie and Jo, they can keep what they like,” she told him. “The others can go into the treasury.”

Sam nodded, and took the chest, refilling it, glaring at Gabriel every few pieces. When he reached for the first bottle of perfume, however, Deanna told him, “Wait,” and held out her hand to him. Sam handed over the vials carefully, watching hawkishly as she dabbed a drop to her wrist in turn, testing them out. She smiled at the last one.

“These, I’ll keep,” she told them cheekily, and Sam huffed in fake annoyance, gathering up the now full chest and running out the door without another word, closing it softly behind him. Gabriel smiled as Deanna set the three bottles carefully on her desk.

“Can I ask …” he started hesitantly.

Deanna shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “It’s a common story around here, you’ll probably hear it too if you’re planning to stay for any length of time,” she told him. “As the tale goes, for each night the captured Princess of Mann spent with a member of the Daemon court, she was rewarded with  a single piece of gold jewelry with emerald accents, to bring out her eyes or so said the Daemon king. By the time she escaped, she was bedecked in gold from head to toe, and for each mile she travelled home she sold a piece until she was completely unadorned.” The corners of her lips twitched up mirthlessly. “There’s specks of truth in that, but it’s not the complete truth.”

She sighed, turning to him and facing him straight on. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” she confided almost dreamily, “but then again I haven’t told anyone this, and telling someone like you will only make you scared … which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.” She smirked, but her eyes became wide and unfocused as if remembering something horrifying from ages past. “I did get a piece of jewelry for each night spent with a Daemon lord, and those were gold, yes, but with diamonds, not emeralds. Other nights, though, they had me in … interrogation, I suppose, instead.” She grinned. “For each man I broke there, I received one of those pieces with emeralds, and when I escaped, there were so many emerald pieces that most forgot I even had the diamonds with me.”

Gabriel felt a shudder run through him, but smirked outwardly instead. “Whoa, okay, never getting on your bad side then,” he teased, and her fake smile turned real for a brief second.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t break any of my rules and we’ll be good,” she scoffed. She pulled herself to her feet again, walking to her desk and leaning against it. “Anyway, I’m glad we’ve worked this out,” she said with another fake smile. “Suppose I’ll see you around the castle – and please, _please,_ be a stranger, okay?”

Gabriel chuckled. “Sure, princess,” he smirked, standing with a groan and stretching his back out. “I’ll see myself out, then, and see you around.”

 

“As I said,” she called back, “hopefully, I won’t!”


End file.
